o it to make both ends
meet; but since the opening of the quarries he has really prospered and
has a market right here in town for all the mutton he can raise. I'm so
glad Romanzo's got a chance."

They rambled on, crossing the apex of The Gore and getting a good view
of the great extent of the opened quarries. Their talk drifted from one
thing to another, Champney questioning about this one and that, until,
as they turned homewards, he declared he had picked up the many dropped
stitches so fast, that he should feel no longer a stranger in his native
place when he should make his first appearance in the town the next day.
He wanted to renew acquaintance with all the people at Champ-au-Haut and
the old habitues of The Greenbush.

III

He walked down to Champ-au-Haut the next afternoon. Here and there on
the mountain side and along the highroad he noticed the massed pink and
white clusters of the sheep laurel. Every singing bird was in full
voice; thrush and vireo, robin, meadow lark, song-sparrow and catbird
were singing as birds sing but once in the whole year; when the mating
season is at its height and the long migratory flight northwards is
forgotten in the supreme instinctive joy of the ever-new miracle of
procreation.

When he came to The Bow he went directly to the paddock gate. He was
hoping to find Octavius somewhere about. He wanted to interview him
before seeing any one else, in regard to Rag who had not returned. The
recalcitrant terrier must be punished in a way he could not forget; but
Champney was not minded to administer this well-deserved chastisement in
the presence of the dog's protectress. He feared to make a poor first
impression.

He stopped a moment at the gate to look down the lane--what a beautiful
estate it was! He wondered if his aunt intended leaving anything of it
to the girl she had kept with her all these years. Somehow he had
received the impression, whether from Mr. Van Ostend or his sister he
could not recall, that she once said she did not mean to adopt her. His
mother never mentioned the matter to him; indeed, she shunned all
mention, when possible, of Champ-au-Haut and its owner.

In his mind's eye he could still see this child as he saw her on the
stage at the Vaudeville, clad first in rags, then in white; as he saw
her again dressed in the coarse blue cotton gown of orphan asylum order,
sitting in the shade of the boat house on that hot afternoon in July,
and rubbing her g